


Dire Consequences

by babyvfan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A/B/O loosely based, Alpha Shiro (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blade of Mamora is also a mafia family, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Bottom Keith, Established Relationship, Galra Keith (Voltron), Lingerie, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Boss Keith, Omega Keith, Organized Crime, Top Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29729595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyvfan/pseuds/babyvfan
Summary: Crime Lords were no better than preschool kids. Loud, dramatic, and always throwing over toys. One discards, another collects. Except when the one crime lord tries to cross another....things get ugly.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 55
Collections: Sheithlentines 2021





	Dire Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> This Sheithlentines gift is for the lovely LaSinisterChaos over at Twitter. Your wishlist was like....visiting a candy shop

*****

He was late. 

Then again, if there was one thing that Zarkon, notorious crime lord of the Galra sharks, and his crew, it would be their tendency to arrive “fashionably late.” Even to the meetings they themselves arranged. 

Shiro already knew that this meeting was going to be a headache. A meeting to supposedly discuss business when really it was a meeting designed to hit every one of Shiro’s triggers to gain a rise out of him

Like his attendee’s unpunctuality, even though he was the one who called the meeting. 

Then there was the location of the meeting, set at a place Shiro tried to avoid if he could help it. 

La Rogue Demure, a popular club on Galra territory that offered every boost of pleasure for its generous clients. From the top floor supplying an endless flow of drinks, served by pretty waiters and waitresses scantily clad in dark purple and black, and front seats to the sensational shows put on by the dancers on the stage. To the second floor, where pleasure was found in the private red satin rooms, more than likely featuring one of the pretty dancers on the bed with a coy smile. Then the bottom floor, where another heart-exhilarating, blood-pumping event took place in the ring, spectators howling and flaying like wild animals as blows collided, kicks were swung, and spilled blood and broken teeth littered the grimy floor. 

For two years, Shiro was the popular source of entertainment in that ring. Shoved into the blinding lights and loud cheers with a quick gulp of water, knuckles still bruised from the previous match. Barely taking in a deep breath before a fist flew, beginning a familiar and brutal dance that would spill blood across the grimy floor. Usually his first. 

If he closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough, Shiro easily remembered that time in the ring. Hear the screams that were so loud, it was hard to keep his thoughts together. Feel the quick whoosh of the air as a fast fist or kick cut through it. Taste the blood filling his mouth and streaming from his bruised nose, bits of cracked teeth piercing his cheek. 

No!

Shiro took in a sharp breath and gave himself a mental shake to his head, freeing himself from those memories. 

No. No. No. 

That was the past and this was the now. The present where he was no longer an entertainment piece, but a patron- and a reluctant one at that. A refined man on a mission. Where-

“Double sour whiskeys, hold the rocks.”

Where he was being offered two shots of his favorite drink by one of his favorite bartenders, a….well, he’d say kind since she was. Underneath the snark. Sometimes. When she chose to be. Although the half-amused curl of her mouth probably wouldn’t be taken as kind. 

“Thanks Nadia.” He accepted the glasses she passed along and drowned one. 

“You can thank me by losing the frown. Tips only happen where they see satisfaction from all areas. Pretty bartender,” She gestured at her dark-bronze skin, pretty face, and black hair tied in a loose ponytail, and dark eyes that were cunning as a cat’s. “Satisfied customer.” She gestured to Shiro. “Do I really need to give you a hint as to which ones are not fitting?”

No, no she did not. He knew from ache that he was held too tightly. 

“Just breathe, sweetheart,” his lover whispered into his ear, arms wrapped around Shiro’s torso. “Remember. You’re no longer their fucking toy.”

Replaying the words in his head, Shiro pushed aside the empty glass and snatched up the other, drowning it down in one gulp, letting the liquor burn through his system, setting off a warm glow inside him. 

“That’s better.” Nadia pushed forward another shot of the whiskey, the glass rimmed with cinnamon. 

Shiro definitely felt better. 

“What has you in such a foul mood?” She propped her hands underneath her chin and moved closer to him. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I figured a romantic sap like you would tickled pink over it.”

Shiro didn’t bother rebuking the claim. Well, he wouldn’t exactly call himself a sap, he’d easily admit that there was something about the holidays that made things a bit brighter, festive for him. Christmas, obviously. Halloween, of course. And Valentine’s Day, which before was a rough spot he usually edged around until he found a person, someone extraordinary, to spend the day with. 

Shiro had grand plans for this Valentine’s Day that were now pushed to the backburner because it was time for work. 

“Business,” he finally finished before the silence went on for too long. 

Nadia’s eyes sparked with intrigue before they cleared, and she nodded once. “Your dear friend?”

More like a nuisance, but Shiro kept that correction to himself, instead saying, “You could say that.”

A dear nuisance was the best term to sum up Sendak, Zarkon’s right hand and one of the most dangerous of the sharks in his circle. Whose list of crimes and body count could fill up the whole club and then some. And had been a pain in the ass for Shiro’s for years, both in and outside the ring, taking great pleasure in pushing every good nerve in his body. 

That explained the date he picked, no doubt hearing from loose lips Shiro had other plans. 

That explained the location, a place that made Shiro’s skin crawl every time he had to come back. 

That also explained the empty spot Shiro spotted by the upper balcony, the private booth Sendak usually reserved. 

Typical. 

“He beat you a good thirty minutes ago,” Shiro looked over from the empty balcony to Nadia, who was polishing her glass. “Except there was some business he decided to take care of down below.”

His earlier bite of annoyance stung harder into irritation. Of course, he was. “The second or third floor?”

Nadia’s eyes shot to him, a knowing smirk lit in them. “What do you think?”

Shiro chose not to answer, already knowing the answer. He finished off the third shot, scooping up the stray drops dripping down his lips. Pushing back the glass, he was ready to thank Nadia for her services, but noticed her attention was focused on something else, her former faint smile darkening to a deep frown. 

A patron was lounging on the black chair, crushed purple fedora tilted sideways, a sly smile plastered on his face, glass raised in cheers. Seemingly innocent enough if not for the fact his legs were spread wide, the other hand fondling his cock. There must have been disdain on Nadia’s face, because that sly smile changed to….from what Shiro made out, puckering, the fast motion of his lips going as fast as his cock. 

“Shiro.” Nadia said, but Shiro was already on the move, cutting across the floor.

Puckermouth’s smile slipped a bit when Shiro stood in front of him, his eyes examining him. Shiro knew what he was seeing. His broad shoulders. The thick scar above his nose that looked just as fresh as the day he received it. His silver-white titanium hand. Top that off with the alpha aura radiating from him, so strong that Puckermouth being the lesser one was closing up 

“Hello,” Shiro greeted, tone pleasant. 

“Hello,” the man answered back evenly. Anxiety stiffening his limbs slowly relaxed as he took in that smile. Once he was sure there was no threat, he turned his attention over to Nadia, who was serving another customer. “You know her?”

Shiro’s smile grew a bit bigger. “Quite well. Long enough to know that she’s quite….flexible.”

Eagerness and another look crossed his eyes, a look that made Shiro’s skin crawl. “Just how flexible are we talking?”

Shiro kept that smile on. “Practically a pro.”

He leaned forward to Shiro, his eagerness transparent. “You wouldn’t happen to know if she makes house calls, do you?”

“Well,” Shiro said. “I can tell you that she’s good at what she does. Always delivered.”

Each word Shiro said made Puckermouth’s head bounce faster and faster, so much so that Shiro was sure his head would pop off. He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and leaned in close to say, “She’s also a close friend of mine who’s under the Blades’ protection.”

Surprise widened his eyes, erasing every trace of eagerness and lust that was glowing there. Quickly, surprise changed to fear. Before he had a chance to voice the fear, Shiro grabbed a hold of his shoulder with his right hand and squeezed so hard, a sound matching a strangled cat burst from Puckermouth as he was forced out of the seat and onto his knees. Attempting to claw Shiro’s metal hand away, which only strengthened his grip, causing more strangled cries to buck from him. 

Shiro took in the eyes glued to him, the pained cries and curses gurgled up in Puckermouth’s throat, and the tears and snot covering his face. He took it all in with a weary sigh, inhaling frustration and exhaling slowly. 

A simple in and out. That was what he wanted. Come in, hear what needed to be said, and go about his business and enjoy what was left of the holiday. But here Shiro was, on the way to meet one problem, and now handling another. 

Baby wasn’t going to be happy about this. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” the man babbled, his voices nearly overshadowed by his tears. “I didn’t know-”

“Yes you did,” Shiro answered back easily, as if a child were asking if the sky was blue. “You knew what sexual harassment is and thought it was funny. You know she was uncomfortable, but you still chose to do so. So, yes, you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Please-” He started to say but then the rest of his sentence fell flat as Shiro’s grip tightened, holding so tightly that Shiro heard bones breaking underneath the cool metal. 

Shiro kneeled down until he was at the man’s eye-level and offered him another easy smile, his grip still firm and tight on the ruined shoulder. ‘This time, it’s a simple warning. Next time, I’ll break everything from here,” He tapped along the ruined shoulder, ignoring the hiss that ripped from him. “To here.” He pointed down at the bulge of his pants that was displayed proudly seconds ago, now deflated and sporting a damp spot. “Are we clear?”

Puckermouth gave him a dirty look that would’ve been impressed if not for the fact his face was streaked with tears and snot. 

“Are we clear?” Shiro dug his fingers in and twisted the shoulder. Ever so slightly. 

Eyes burning, the man grunted, “Crystal.”

“Wonderful,” Shiro beamed and released his grip. 

Apparently Pucker was too fond of his touch. The second Shiro loosened his fingers, he ended up knocking back against his table, his head smacking against the edge with a loud thump before he landed hard on the ground. 

Shiro straightened his tie, fixed his lapels, and walked up the thick stairs that led up to the balcony. Minutes ago, the booth had been empty and now it was occupied. With several servers standing by the small bar, blending into the shaded background. By the crystal glassed balcony overlooking the dancers, the customers, and the commotion down below was a black oval table already set with glasses and an iced bucket holding Goldline vodka, along with a platter of snacks consisting of cubed cheese, pretzels, and sweets. Placed by either side of the table were two soft-gray jensen chairs. 

Occupying one of those chairs, sipping the rest of his drink, eyes watching the people down behold with a bored expression on his face was Sendak. Only thing that hinted he had previous business were the reddish-purple bruises peppered across his knuckles, answering Nadia’s earlier question on which floor he paid a visit to.

He didn’t get a chance to speak before Sendak turned his head over to Shiro. Moment their eyes met, that cold-stoned face broke into a small, private smile, reeked with poison, that never failed to make a fire-hot hatred flare inside Shiro’s chest. 

“Long time, no see,” Sendak greeted. “Champ.”

Strike one. 

Shiro took in a deep breath, tightening the friends of his anger before it blew up. Last thing he wanted or needed was to make a mess of things before they even had a chance to start. Or before he had the chance to sit. He studied that faint, amused smile. The same smile he wore whenever he met each other in the ring, baring a flash of teeth before his fist flew, plowing square into Shiro’s face. 

“I thought it was clear that I haven’t been Champ for a long time,” Shiro said, taking the empty chair opposite him. “Almost three years to be exact.”

“Oh how does time fly?” Sendak commented. 

Shiro continued on. “Just as I made clear that I don’t appreciate that nickname. Nor do I go by that anymore.”

Sendak’s eyes gleamed in mirth. “Except on business, correct?”

Shiro pursued his lips, saying nothing. Sendak took his silence as an answer, his smile growing. 

“What?” He asked, his tone seemingly innocent, his eyes the exact opposite. “You didn’t think all this time we don’t keep tabs on our former best, did you?”

No, Shiro wasn’t that stupid. 

Sendak let out a dark chuckle before he held out his glass. In an instant, a server stepped forward to refill it, squeezing a bit of lemon, before they faded into the background. “Well, you know what they said. Leopards don’t change their spots, even if they traded wildlife for being a guard-dog.”

Shiro let the bard slide off him. 

“I find it funny, Champ, you say you’re retired and yet,” Sendak gestured at the clown still slumped on the floor, holding onto his shoulder as other people continued on with their conversations and fun, stepping around him. “Down there, you gave us quite a show. I was impressed.” His faint smile darkened to a thin-lined frown. “Even if now thanks to you, I need to start looking for a new driver.”

This time, Shiro didn’t fight against the small smile curling his mouth as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, offering a nonchalant shrug. 

Sendak’s eyes narrowed to cold slits. “Maybe I should return the favor.”

Shiro only smiled. “Sure, if you suddenly have a great urge to lose your arm.”

That annoying smile resurfaced, full and bright. “Yes, you would know quite a lot about that, wouldn’t you?”

Shiro felt his jaw twitch, smile lagging. Sendak’s smile only grew. 

It had been years since that fatal match, years since Sendak held Shiro down when he was so close to winning and twisted his arm brutally and yet Shiro still felt that excruciating pain barreling down his arm. He had to take a slow, deep breath to push back the memories before they had a chance to overwhelm him. Against his control, he felt his left hand, his metal hand balling up into a tight fist. 

Sendak caught the movement and looked like a cat who caught the canary. “Looks like you got an upgrade.”

Compared to the rustic silver arm Honvera and her team had provided for him after that fight with Sendak, that was an understatement. 

“Gift from the Blades?” Sendak asked. 

“No,” Shiro answered. “From the Alteans actually. Courtesy of their generous Donna Allura, who I guess you can say became a close, personal friend to the Blades.”

And also to him, but Shiro was going to keep that comment to himself. Sendak, much as he tried to be unfazed, caught the jab in those words, his eyes bleeding red. It wasn’t too long ago that the tentative courtship between Lotor, the Shark’s future heir, and Allura fell apart almost as quickly as it started. Rumors swirled around as to why. Some say it was Lotor’s ego that was too large for the relationship. Others suggested Zarkon and Honerva with their power lust was too much for Allura’s liking. Many, including Shiro, were convinced Sendak got too close, too eager, and showed his hand too soon before Lotor had a chance to secure his future. 

Based on the mirth flaring in his eyes, Shiro had a good feeling his guess was right on the nail. He tried to make his face neutral, but felt his lips curling. 

A slip-up that made Sendak’s annoyance sharpen and Shiro’s smile broadened. 

“How interesting,” Sendak finally spat out. “Eager puppy goes from one owner to another, and performs tricks to bring in admirers for the owner. How cute.”

“What’s cute,” Shiro said. “Is that you’re calling me a pet while you continue to be a devoted dog to your master who, from what I heard, gave you quite a lashing for the last job you screwed up. I do hope your wounds heal.”

Sendak shot him a poisonous look that Shiro replied back with a smile. 

“Much as I enjoy our squabbles,” Which Shiro enjoyed as much as getting a root canal done. “There’s a reason you called me down here tonight, so…” He gestured at him to proceed. 

Sendak’s mouth opened, but before he had a chance to voice a reply, a server stepped forward.

“Sirs.”

“What?” Sendak barked so obviously that the poor woman flinched back, clutching onto her silver tray like a shield. 

“I know you wanted no interruptions-”

“Which is exactly what you’re doing.” 

Shiro aimed at him with a warning look and gestured for the waitress to continue on. She kept her eyes locked on Shiro. 

“It seems that you’ve been provided with a bit of...entertainment.”

Entertain-the thought snapped in two as she stood aside and gave Shiro full view of a bar that minutes ago was empty and now occupied by a newcomer perched cross-legged on the countertop. 

Clad head to toe in red lace with a low v-neckline and long lace sleeves, featuring a shimmering lace sheer that broadcasted a tone stomach. Paired with sheer stockings, strapped to thin garters and strappy pencil-thin heels. Instead of concealing, the lingerie only showed off: toned stomach, collar bone, perky nipples practically rising from the bodice, long legs made even longer by the stockings, and valleys of smooth lilac skin glowing under the florescent club lights that looked to touch. Or kiss. 

Sendak gave an approving whistle that would have annoyed Shiro if his mouth wasn’t currently hanging open, eyes focused on the figure. 

Heart beating extra hard, Shiro slowly raked his gaze up that lean legs, past the slim torso, the perky nipples that looked like rosy pink pebbles he lingered on for a bit, the neck wrapped with a thin red collar, and up to one of the most attractive face that was almost too pretty to look into without his heart skipping several beats. Then the pretty stranger turned their gaze into a pair of stunning, deep violet eyes.

As soon as their eyes met, a playful smile spread across those pretty pink lips, their cat-like eats perking up in interest, before they climbed off the countertop and sauntered over to them. 

Over to Shiro. 

He perched himself onto Shiro’s lap and draped a leg over his knees, exposing enough thigh to make Shiro’s heart skip almost ten beats. Then settled his head onto Shiro’s shoulder, inky-black curls tickling Shiro’s skin, nuzzling against him until the right position was found. He laid his hand against Shiro’s chest, placed above his heart that was running rapid fast. 

“New friend of yours?” Sendak guessed. 

Shiro opened his mouth to reply, ready to launch several of the responses building in his head, but his words-and tongue-were swallowed all the way down as a sweet scent flooded his nose. Burnt honey and vanilla, surrounding him like a cloud, lulling his senses like rich wine. 

The vast powers an Omega held in their scent never ceased to amaze Shiro. 

As if he were aware of what their close proximity, his scent was doing to Shiro, his new friend purred and nuzzled closer against him, raking sharp fingers softly against Shiro’s chest. 

His scent was so strong, it even swayed Sendak, eyes going hazed for a moment, a splash of crimson running through them as a chilling smile curled. “A sweet friend, it seems.” 

Shiro snapped his teeth at him, his hold on that slender waist tightening. Not much, but enough for Sendak’s eyes to catch the moment, making that smile brighten. 

Leaning against his chair, he said, “How about your pretty friend gives us a show? I could use some entertainment.” 

Said sweet friend barely lifted his head up from Shiro’s chest to spare Sendak a quick glance before his eyes closed and head returned back down. Dismissal clear. 

Amusement in Sendak’s eyes quickly boiled into anger. “Do you not have ears, pup? I said dance.”

“That’s enough!” Shiro called out, voice brisk. He waited for Sendak to direct his narrow-eyed glare back to him before he continued on. “If you want a show, you can arrange one yourself.” 

“Shouldn’t have to when there’s a willing one right there. Omegas should know their place. We call, they come. We demand, they entertain. That’s the way it should be.”

He meant the way it was. It took everything in Shiro not to roll his eyes. Among the many, many things he didn’t miss about working under Zarkon’s thumb, it was their old-fashion view of the “natural order,” consisting of alphas like the most of the creatures in their circle placed on top, omegas docile and frail at bottom, and betas in the middle. 

Sendak shared Zarkon’s belief and followed it faithfully like he did everything else. It was why La Rouge was one his favorite places, close to Galra territory, rumored to be one of many establishments owned by Zarkon. Most of the clients were alphas with a handful serving in the ring down below, the servers mainly betas, and entertainment both on stage and in those private rooms were omegas. 

“A bitch should know their place,” Sendak commented. “And I have no problems reminding them.”

“Touch a single hair on him and I’ll break more than that arm.” Shiro snarled. 

Sendak took the words in stride, tossing his head back, letting out a peal of laughter that made Shiro grind his teeth. “Here’s the Champion I remember.” 

Shiro snarled again, baring his teeth. 

“Happy to know that you still have that fire,” Sendak said. “Even if you’re now licking the boots of a bratty bitch.”

“Don’t.” Shiro warned in a low voice. A dangerously calm, mild voice that usually alerted the person on the receiving end of that tone they were on thin ice. 

“Why does he keep his face hidden from the public, Takashi?” Sendak commented. “There have been rumors for years over what a half-breed Galra looks like.” He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “I’m curious.”

Strike two. 

“Watch it.” Shiro snarled. 

“I wonder if it has less to do with the fact that he’s hideous and more with the face even this mysterious Red,” A name that made other men, lesser men that were twice the infamous Red’s leader size quiver sounded like a taunting pinch in Sendak’s mouth. “Knows he’s not up for the role. Knows he’s too weak.”

That does it! 

Red bleeding his vision, Shiro charged forward, ready to tear Sendak’s throat out. Then was stilled by the soft touch of lips pressing kisses and bites along the neck of his neck, licking over his glands that were bulging out, taking all the fury building inside Shiro and squeezing it out like a sponge. 

A moan threatened to slip out, but Shiro managed to keep it in. Barely though, as the kisses grew more bold, the nibbles sharpening to bites that were soothed by slow licks. Shiro leaned back in his chair, his hand sliding from Pretty Violet’s back, toying with the thin material of the red thong. 

Realizing Sendak was watching them carefully, Shiro said, “Let’s cut to the chase, Sendak, and get to it. Why did you call this meeting?”

Sendak let out a heavy, long sigh as if the reason was obvious and Shiro was an idiot not to see it. “Still as impatient as ever.”

“And you’re still as obnoxious as ever,” Shiro shot back easily. “Now that we got out of the way, we can get down to business. What do you want?”

“Very well, Champ. We want you back.”

Shiro’s brows shot up. “Back where?”

“To the sharks, of course.”

Of course. Of course. Of fucking course. Shiro should’ve known. “And why the hell would I go back?”

The tightness around Sendak’s eyes made Shiro aware his answer was not what Sendak wanted to hear. Nevertheless, that amused smile was still in place. “You mean other than being a suicidal idiot too stupid to recognize a good deal when he’s handed one?”

“Yes,” Shiro answered back flatly. “Besides that.”

Pretty Violet snickered into Shiro’s jacket. 

“How about the fact that despite what those other idiots think, Zarkon remains at the top. The Sharks remain at the top. And being at the top opens the door to perks. And I don’t mean just money.”

Sendak held up his hand to show off his new prosthetic arm, a replacement for the old one rumored to have been lost in a car accident with a bomb planted in his own car. It was bigger than Shiro’s, and had a sharp clawed hook attached to it. 

“The latest model done by Donna Honvera herself,” Sendak announced proudly. “Who still remembers a thing or two from her former home.’

By remembering, he clearly meant secrets she stole from Altea and corrupted, said a voice in Shiro’s head that sounded an awfully lot like Allura. It had been years and Honvera’s betrayal still stung. 

“I’m pretty sure she’ll do the same for you,” Sendak continued on. “After all, you were her favorite.”

Favorite test subject she meant. It was said that years ago, Honvera was quite the beauty, her beauty rivalling that of Allura until her obsession with chemicals and drugs she was rumored to be making for the sharks ruined it for her, becoming deeply addicted to the substance herself. Shiro barely suppressed a shudder as he remembered those cold, maniac eyes, thin white hair spilling over her shoulders, and a wide grin that made nausea twist his stomach. 

The pretty Omega nipped at Shiro’s ear, bringing him back to the present. He distracted himself by toying with the buttons of Shiro’s jacket. 

“Why now?” Shiro asked.

“Like I said, you can take a fighter out of the fight but you can’t take the fight out of the fighter. You may be slow in the brain, Takashi, but you actually are quite an asset.”

Basically meaning that Zarkon, like a spoiled child, decided that the same toy he tossed aside he now wanted back. Typical. Although given what Sendak said, Shiro wondered if it was Zarkon or Honvera herself who decided their reigning Champ was needed back in their grasp. 

“I left.” Shiro reminded. 

“And you can easily be brought back.”

Still toying with Shiro’s middle button, violet eyes slid over to Sendak. He, for once, was too focused on Shiro to notice. 

“I don’t think so,” Shiro said with a small smile. “After all, like you said, I’ve become quite an asset. I doubt I can be easily traded around like a pack of cards.”

The faint amusement in Sendak’s face darkened to anger, narrowing his eyes, pinching his mouth. “You may have gotten a new arm and fancy suits, but we both know you’re still the same Champion always itching for a fight.”

For survival, Shiro corrected, fuming. 

“And we both know once a shark, always a shark. Zarkon wants you back, plain and simple. It’s not a matter of why. It’s a matter of how soon you’ll be back.”

Brows furrowed, Shiro asked, “Maybe I should rephrase the question. What makes you think I’ll be taken back so easily.”

Sendak huffed. “You really think your little group is strong enough against Zarkon?”

“My little group was able to take you and your croons down. Multiple times if memory serves me well.”

“By damn luck.” Sendak barked. 

“Whatever helps you sleeps at night.” Shiro retorted. 

Sendak leaned over the counter top, practically lying himself across the table, and was so close to them that Shiro saw how anger edged and hardened every feature of his face. So close, Shiro had a first-hand taste of the alcohol perfuming from his breath as he spat out, “You think The Blades are the first ones who thought they could challenge us? Beat us? Wrong. Almost every time people thought they could, ended up down one way or another. The question I’d ask if I were you is if they were brought down to their knees or the ground. Another question I’d ask if I were you is which one do you think we’ll go after first? You or the faceless brat?”

Shiro stared back at him coolly, idly running his fingers through black curls. “If I were you, I’d pick my next words carefully.”

Sendak chuckled a low laugh, shaking his eyes. “You got some balls on you, Takashi, I’ll give you that. That will make all the more fun when I break you.” He placed his fingers under his chin and studied Shiro. “I wonder if I should record it and send it as a farewell gift to this Red. Or just rip off that new arm of yours and have it delivered straight to him. I’m sure that would be-”

A heavy thump cut through the air and Sendak’s words like a body hitting the ground or a target hitting its mark. 

Sendak’s eyes widened, mouth hanging wide open. Shiro’s mouth quirked, eyes shining bright. They shared a quick glance, one of shocked horror, the other of delight, before they looked down at Sendak’s hand that was inches away from Shiro’s thigh pinned down on the table. Courtesy of the knife planted in the middle of his knife, the blade piercing through skin and the table, blood oozing from the wound.   
“Do go on,” Keith purred. A feline smile rolled across his lips as he tapped the hilt of his dagger, his favorite one he usually had tucked away somewhere. “You were on a roll.”

A scream was gathered in Sendak’s throat, barreling up his throat, vibrating through his clenched teeth. His face was flushed red from the shock, pain, and anger. His bottom lip was bitten so hard, streaks of blood ran down the corners of his mouth. 

“No?” Keith’s back was to him, but Shiro pictured the adorable pout he enjoyed kissing was plastered on his mouth, matching the faux disappointment of his voice. “What a pity.”

Steam practically burst from Sendak’s ears, his scowl darkening to a vicious sneer. He opened it to shoot a retort, but a pained hiss knocked out of him as Keith twisted the knife slowly, cutting through more skin and nerves. 

“I think you made him speechless, boss.” Shiro commented. 

A stillness cast over Keith’s body before he turned back to him. As he predicted, that adorable pout was on Keith’s face, making more look like such an innocent kitten. One slim, dark brow arched and a look in those yellow purple-iris eyes that was a mix of annoyance and fondness. 

“Baby.” Shiro corrected. 

Better, that small smile tugging on his mouth seemed to say before Keith turned back to Sendak, who was trying to dig the knife out. 

His attempts were halted as Keith grabbed a salt shaker and sprinkled it on top of the wound, smiling as Sendak hissed and struggled, causing the knife to dig deeper in. 

“I don’t recall giving you permission to move.” Keith said, voice brisk and sharp. 

“You filthy half-breed worm-” Sendak’s rant was cut off as Keith twisted the knife even further, a near 180 rotation. 

“Nor did I give you permission to speak,” Keith continued. “You had your chance and chose to waste it. Now it’s my turn.”

Sendak’s other hand, his clawed hand flew out. Before it had a chance to reach Keith, Shiro’s hand was already wrapped around it, bending further and further, until wires ripped apart and the hand was completely separated from the arm. 

“Oops,” Shiro said to a shell-shocked Sendak. “I believe Red made clear the floor is his.”

Sendak wasn’t even listening to him. His stunned eyes were focused on his dismembered hand Shiro dropped beside the chair. 

Shiro took that as his cue to go. Smiling pleasantly, Shiro pressed a lingering kiss against the back of Keith’s neck and rose up, depositing Keith onto the chair with ease. “Sendak, always a pleasure.” He winked. “Baby, let me know when you’re done.”

He shot Sendak one last wink, straightened his jacket, and headed over to the staircase. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

Shiro stopped mid-step and turned back to Keith. 

Two of the waitresses, including the one who was stammering out her message earlier, hauled Sendak back against his chair, their reddish-purple Blades of Mamora tattoos prominently displayed by the side of their necks. Keith had moved from the seat to the table, sitting sideways cross-legged, and idly tapped against his dagger’s hilt as he stared back at Shiro. 

“I don’t recall giving you permission to leave.” Keith gestured at the empty chair. ‘Sit.”

Letting out a breath of laughter, Shiro floundered back to them. Before he took his seat, Keith gestured to him to come forward, and then brought him closer by the pull of Shiro’s tie, yanking him into a deep kiss. Heavy with desire, heated with need. 

So much need that Shiro practically melted back in the chair, pushed by a small nudge of Keith’s finger against his chest. 

Later, those heated eyes promised. The hunger in them reserved for Shiro changed to something deadly, almost feral, as they returned back to Sendak, who was struggling to break free. 

“I don’t know what I find more annoying. You and your boss being a pain in my side for the longest. Or you actually have the fucking nerve to think you could steal my right hand man under my nose. Or-”

“Fuck you, you little brat!” Sendak barked. 

Keith closed his eyes and sighed so deeply. Moment his breath was released, the knife that was planted in Sendak’s hand was pierced through Sendak’s leg. 

Sendak howled in pain, nearly curling in. 

“As I was saying,” Keith said. “I don’t know if I find those two factors annoying. Or the fact you actually thought you had the right to touch him.” Clucking his tongue, he shook his head. “That's a big no no.”

Hatred burnt in those cold, dark eyes but Sendak gritted his teeth, withholding his words that would earn him more stab wounds. 

“I’ve been wondering what’s the best way to deal with you. I think this is a beautiful start, wouldn’t you?”

Sendak opened his mouth, but all that came out was a scream as Red got to work.

**~.....~**

Three hours. That was how long their meeting went. How long Keith worked. 

Three hours was how it took for Keith to bash in almost every single tooth in Sendak’s mouth with a hammer, to saw his tongue out with his knife, and to curve a big BM onto Sendak’s chest so everyone was reminded what happened when you crossed a Blade. 

At one point, Keith looked back to Shiro, who was trying his hardest to maintain his composure despite his dick swelling from watching his baby work, and held up his knife. A silent question if Shiro wanted to try his hand. 

Shiro glanced at the knife, then Sendak, and accepted the knife, moving besides Keith.  
  
Sendak had screamed in the beginning, so loud that it almost overpowered the music blasting through the club. Screamed and cursed and listed the number of ways he’d make them pay, Zarkon would make them pay. Then the cursing and the threats gave way to more screaming. In the end, though, there was only so much screaming a person could do, before their voice gave out, before their body surrendered to the pain. 

His face was caked with dried blood and teeth pieces spilling over his shirt. His jacket and shirt torn open to reveal the BM that was still leaking blood, swelling ripe red. His left hand was covered with dry blood while his other was a mess of broken wires. 

“I don’t think there’s anywhere else for me to hit, baby.” Shiro said 

Keith shrugged. “Guess I got a little carried away.”

“A little?” Shiro echoed. 

Keith shook his wink and turned his attention to the other Blades still holding a barely-conscious Sendak down, all traces of coyness vanished as a flat expression settled on his face. “I want this bastard shipped straight to Zarkon and let him know this is,” He pointed his blade at Sendak’s bruises. “Me being generous. Next time he or anyone else in that cave of theirs gets into their head that they can threaten me, my crew, or Shiro,” Fury chilled into those violet eyes. “I’ll send the next bastard back in pieces.”

They nodded. Keith turned back to Shiro, a small smile breaking through the cold mask. 

“Ready to go?”

“So ready.” Shiro answered. He grabbed Keith’s hand and placed a kiss along his knuckles, growing his smile into a grin. 

By they left, it was too late to dine-in at a restaurant, except for possible another club but one look into Keith’s face, and Shiro knew he had enough excitement for the night. So they stopped for take-out at their favorite Japanese, nearly ordering almost everything off the menu, and then went over to a new French bakery down the stairs for some chocolate-covered strawberries that were drizzled in vanilla and pink icing. 

After a quick shower and change, Shiro into comfortable sweats and no shirt, Keith in another lacy red number that did dangerous things to his heart, they relocated to their room. Keith laid across their poster bed, one hand pillowed by his hand, the other spread over his stomach. Shiro next to him, feeding him strawberry after strawberry, stomach full of food, heart full of contentment. 

Keith swallowed down another strawberry and cracked one eye at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Shiro shook his head. 

“You look like you’re thinking something.”

“Well, that’s what a functioning brain is meant to do.” 

Keith nipped him at the nose for that comment. Shiro accepted it with a laugh, knowing he deserved, and kissed him long and slow that Keith’s eyes were dazed by the time they slowly pulled apart.   
“You’re not still upset that I interrupted your meeting, are you?” Keith asked.

“I’m not upset.”

Keith arched a brow at him. 

“I’m not upset,” Shiro insisted. “I was just surprised. I didn’t think I’d get an unexpected visitor.”

Keith gave an innocent, one-shoulder shrug. 

“Babe,” Shiro said. 

This time, he received a full shrug with both shoulders that made Shiro roll his eyes affectionately. One of the dangerous Blades, one of the most dangerous crime lords in the whole tree, and he was still trying to be coy with him. 

“I thought you were protective of your identity,” Shiro said. “Remember how you said that fear to a name can only go as far as there’s no face to it.”

“True,” Keith mused. “But I think, given his severed tongue and broken teeth, Sendak won’t be saying anything for awhile. Perhaps longer unless he wants another visit from Doctor Kogane.”

 _Doctor Kogane?_ A snort burst out of Shiro before he could stop it, unleashing a peal of laughter that bubbled out of him. 

“You are crazy,” Shiro managed out. 

“Yes, yes I am,” Keith said. “I’m also someone who’s very protective of my things.”

Shiro snorted. 

“Besides I know you definitely liked my outfit, did you not?”

Shiro made his approval loud and clear as he peppered kisses along the nape of Keith’s neck, slipping soft nibbles and licks, as his hands toyed with the lace material of his bodice. 

Keith squirmed, purring, as he tilted his head back and allowed Shiro more access to his neck, welcoming Shiro’s touches and kisses with ease. “I’m glad. I think Sendak approved it as well.”

Shiro stilled. 

A chuckle slipped from Keith, tickling his ear before a tongue licked against its shell. “In fact, I think he greatly approved.”

Slowly, Shiro pulled away and stared down at Keith, who grinned back at him. 

“Maybe I should have gone to him first and let him play for-”

Shiro slammed their lips together so hard, so fast, that Shiro was amazed that their teeth hadn’t chipped. Maybe they had, but Shiro was too focused on Keith’s tongue, his mouth, and the feel of their bodies against each other to even bother, pressing further against his body. Each time their lips pulled apart, they came back together, more hungry and needy than the last, their touches more exploratory and daring until clothes were untied and pushed aside. 

“Shiro,” Keith whimpered. 

Mine. Shiro pulled away from Keith, smirking at the whimpering mess beneath him, and slide down his lover’s perfect body. His lips followed the path his fingers set out until they reached the end, at the brink of his ass. 

Any other time, Shiro would draw it out. Teased him until Keith was mush in his ass, pleading to the point of tears until Shiro finally slid inside him. But tonight, he wanted to remind his baby who exactly he belonged. 

“Mine,” Shiro snarled. 

Shiro ripped the thong off with his teeth, spread Keith’s ass-cheeks wide to reveal that pink hole, and dove right in. 

Keith gasped at the first touch of Shiro’s fingers against them, and then gasped as Shiro’s teeth and tongue came into play, ravaging him. 

“Oh...oh... _oh!_ _Oh God!_ ” Keith broke off into a scream as Shiro increased the tempo of his fingers and his tongue, digging deeper in. 

He felt the orgasm building Keith, tightening almost every limb of his body, curling every nerve. It was so close, he was so close. Shiro easily could’ve let him. He wanted him to, but first…

Shiro removed himself from between Keith’s legs and looked down at him. His face was flushed, eyes heated, but there was still a smirk tugging at Keith’s mouth. 

“You’re gonna make me come, big boy, or what?” 

“Oh, I’m gonna do a lot more than that.” Shiro said. 

Delight sparked in those violet eyes. “Is that a dream or a promise?”

Shiro decided the best answer was a demonstration. He spread Keith’s legs wide, laid them over his shoulders, and charged in. First push and Keith’s body nearly jumped from the bed, body curved in a perfect arch, head tossed back, face twisted in shock and pleasure as a shriek knocked out of his throat. One of many, many throats that came from him as Shiro charged in, grasping onto Keith’s hips as he thrust deeper and faster into him, aiming to hit that sweet spot with each push. 

“Fuck me!” Keith demanded, one hand clutching onto Shiro’s shoulder, the other clenching onto the sheets. “Show me how good you can make me feel, alpha! Make me scream!” 

“I aim to please.” Shiro smirked. 

Keith moaned, practically falling apart at the seams.

He had always been beautiful. That was the first thought that came to Shiro that night after his arm was replaced and he was locked in his “room”, head snapping from his bruises over to the door where a stranger clad in black strode in. That was a word that circled around Shiro’s head when the stranger undid his mask to reveal one of the most inhuman striking face he’s ever seen, offering a hand to Shiro and a smile that stole his heart before he was even aware of its’ absence. 

Keith was beautiful in his signature red and black suits, armed to the teeth with knives whenever there was an issue that needed fixed. He was beautiful in the lingerie pieces he modeled for Shiro in their house and out in the public, fitting the role of pretty Omega he played with fools before he showed his sharp teeth. He was beautiful on lazy Sundays when he played around their house in only Shiro’s shirts. 

He was especially beautiful like this, stripped down to the bone, lost in the thralls of ecstasy, granting Shiro full access to the man behind the name and the mask. 

“You are so beautiful,” Shiro grunted into his ear. “You know that,”

Instead of an answer, Shiro felt a push against his chest that knocked him back. By the time his brain caught up of what was happening, he was flat on his back and Keith was on top, slipping Shiro’s cock inside him and then riding him hard with no shame as he chased after his pleasure. Hissing at the sweet heat that enveloped him, Shiro hold onto Keith’s hips and guided him to a fast, frantic rhythm that twined Shiro’s own. 

“Make me come!” Keith demanded. “Make me come!” 

“You remember who you belong to, baby!”

Keith cried, his thrusts becoming shallow, more desperate. 

Beautiful sight but not a good enough answer. “I said, remember who you belong to, baby?”

Then Shiro twisted his hips at a sharp angle that made Keith wail. 

“Yours!” Keith screamed. “Yours!”

“Good boy.”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Keith’s words died in a wordless scream as he broke into a violent shudder, thick ropes of white coating his stomach, Shiro’s torso. 

Shiro leaped up and bit at Keith’s neck, right at the marking mate that was bright as the day he created it, blood spilling into his mouth as his teeth tore through skin. Right as his mind, his body, his whole being was brought up to the brightest degree of pleasure and rapidly fell into blinding white that tore through his spine and flood into his body. A blinding, searing, beautiful white that was so bright, Shiro couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He could only hold knot Keith’s quivering form as he came. 

By the time his senses returned, Shiro found himself laid back on the bed, heart pounding against his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Keith was pressed against him, head pillowed on Shiro’s chest, purring like a sated cat. 

“Well, you definitely gave a clear reminder.” Keith snickered. 

Shiro may have drained, but he had enough energy to pinch Keith’s side. “Brat.”

“You know you love me.”

That...that was a simple claim Shiro couldn’t deny. 

After a few minutes of blissful silence, the night air cooling the heated atmosphere, heartbeats slowing down to normal , Shiro broke it as he said quietly, “I wouldn’t have gone with them, you know.”

Keith was quiet for such a long while, Shiro almost thought he fell asleep. Until he felt him shifting above, lifting his head up to look at him, arms used to prop him up. 

“Sendak,” Shiro clarified. “Zarkon. The Galra in general. I wouldn’t have gone with them.”

Keith nodded and pressed a soft kiss against Shiro’s chest, right above his heart. I know, the gestures seemed to say. 

“I’m already too deep in,” Shiro said. “Literally.”

Keith’s eyes rolled back so hard that Shiro was sure his muscles were working overtime. His poor attempt at a joke earned him a bite to the nipple that stung as much as it aroused. 

“I mean it, baby,” Shiro ranked his hand through Keith’s hair. “I'm in too deep. With the Blades. And with you.”

“I know.” Keith murmured. He grabbed his hand and dropped several kisses onto it, each one more tender than the last. 

“Even if I wasn’t there,” Keith’s voice was soft as he moved closer to Shiro, moving farther up to him until they were directly face to face with little space between them. “And if Sendak tried anything to you, I would have done a lot more than dental work to get you back.”

Shiro le out a quiet, low chuckle. “Because I’m your trusted right-hand?”

“No,” Keith shook his head and caressed Shiro’s cheek. “Because you’re everything to me.”

Cheeks flushed, Shiro wondered if he’d ever be used to Keith saying things like that. How much he cared to Shiro. How much he loved him. Just how important he was to him. He wondered and hoped that he’d never have to find out. 

“I love you,” Shiro murmured. 

“I love you too.” Keith whispered. 

“Happy Valentine’s day, baby.”

“Happy Valentine’s day, sweetheart.”

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to be so careful and make sure there weren't that many spelling mistakes, but I think


End file.
